


Plataia's Wedding

by sparklight



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Reconciliation, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:10:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27578971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklight/pseuds/sparklight
Summary: Hurt, Hera has left Olympos and has not been willing to be convinced to return for a whole nine years. Running out of obvious options, Zeus makes use of an inventive choice for reconciliation with the help of a mountain god and a naiad nymph.
Relationships: Hera/Zeus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Kudos: 24





	1. Husband and Wife - At Odds, Together

"Enough!"

Those were the last words of Hera, daughter of Kronos and Rhea, wife of Zeus, before she left Olympos. Furious, tired, and hurt over her husband's repeated infidelities. 

It wasn't that it was unexpected or sudden; Zeus had strayed every so often long before he married Hera, after all. It was that, after Niobe and Io, suddenly he seemed quite unable to not seek mortal women out, repeatedly and far more often than any before. It was like a dam had broken, and that, while Zeus was used to straying, was... strange. Yet he couldn't put much blame on Aphrodite or her rascal son; so far, the only ones Zeus had been able to trace to Aphrodite's forcible influence when it came to mortal (or nearly so) women were Io and Niobe. Europa hadn't been one of them, and Europa had been the drop that made the cup run over for Hera and he really had nothing to say in his defense. Perhaps it really was just the novelty - that was, undoubtedly, Hera's opinion, which she made amply and accusingly clear when he did find her. 

That, however, took a while, for she did not go to Mycenae, she did not go to Argos or Sparta, nor even to Samos or to her foster parents. It didn't avail him much when he did find her, for Hera refused to talk to him beyond informing him of her opinion of his behaviour. Or to even admit him to her presence at first, though he kept approaching her.

Three years until he found her, a year going by as Zeus first tried to convince Hera to come home, another three that started with indifference and offended disregard for Hera's absence as well as his marriage; there was elsewhere to look, after all. And two long, slow years that should be nothing to those immortal but were felt like mortal years for the lack of her. In the end, it was nine years of nothing, for as much as the lord of Olympos had thought to go elsewhere. Hera's absence was felt more keenly than her offended, angry silences when still in the palace. Nine years were of course not a particularly vast amount of time when it came to the Deathless Ones, but a Great Year was a metaphysically weighty span of time for the gods, and for any married couple that was certainly a long time to be apart with no hint of reconciliation. 

There seemed to be no end of it yet, and Zeus was, quite frankly, at his wits' end.

"Hera---"

"No. If you're going to blather about nonsense, I'll thank you to leave and stop disturbing my hostess," Hera snapped, usually brilliant eyes dark and narrow, her face set into an impressively fierce scowl. One that was even darker than when Zeus had first come to the door of Euboia's home and shrine, Hera having stayed with the nymph for the last several years since Poseidon had brought her here for their dalliance. The island was beginning to be known by a new name for the nymph abducted to it, though Zeus could honestly not care less about the dark-haired shadow of Euboia eyeing him past Hera's cream-pale elbow.

"Nonsense?" growling, now, Zeus straightened up. "What else am I supposed to take from this? And yet, every time I---"

" _Nonsense_. Leave!" The door was slammed closed and then locked with a certain sense of finality, and Zeus stared at the wooden obstacle, running a hand through his hair and then down his face with a groan.

Nonsense? He'd been trying to merely talk to her, and further to convince her to come home for the last several years, but Hera remained unbending. And so, wasn't it just reasonable to offer her divorce if she was so thoroughly unenamoured of his presence and voice anymore? Yet, the first time he'd tried almost two years ago, she'd literally thrown the cup of kykeon she'd been holding when she’d opened the door at his feet, the liquid spattering up over his legs, and slammed said door closed. 

It'd taken half a year before she would even crack the door open to listen to him again, but none of the attempts since had gone particularly well, and he had now, again, tried to bring up divorce. Not that he actually wanted to. For all that it'd been nine years now since he last saw her in the halls of Olympos and their marriage bed, and for all that others had drawn his eyes both prior and during this and, he had to admit, most probably would after her return if she did return, he didn't actually want to divorce her.

Hera was perfect.

Hera was exhaustingly aggravating.

The door remained closed, and though he could still sense Hera's presence within the walls of Euboia's shrine, both the women had withdrawn deeper into the house. He was, quite plainly, being ignored. Zeus did not like being ignored, and he could, he knew, put an end to this right now. 

The door wasn't much of an actual obstacle, after all. It was just a door, Euboia's home not built on any particular spot of power, and Euboia herself was only a nymph. Hera was a greater obstacle in herself obviously, but breaking in, picking her up and just walking out was, again, not impossible. He could weather her essence if she threw it at him, standing against it like an old mountain oak weathering a furious autumn storm. It was not an issue of 'could', because he most certainly _could_. It was an issue of wishing to go through with it or not, and Zeus, son of Kronos, Lord of Olympos and the sky and ruler of one third of the sphere...

Found little will in him to force Hera to return to Olympos if she did not truly wish to do so.

What was he supposed to do, in the end? If she didn't wish to return, she wouldn't wish to stay, and locking her up to force the issue was not something he would do. But that she then seemed to have little interest in ending things in the most logical fashion there was available to them both, if she could truly not stand the situation or him, was thoroughly perplexing and more than a little vexing. 

With little other choice, Zeus gave the closed door one last look and slowly turned away from Euboia’s comfortable home. He walked away from the town of Chalcis with gray, frustrated clouds dragged along across the sky after him.

He didn't immediately return to Olympos, but rather strolled across the land in the divine equivalent of dragging his feet while he turned this conundrum around in his head. It was ridiculous to let it go on for much longer, having been a full Great Year already, but any simple, reasonable method seemed to have worked little to get him anywhere. The idea of simply ignoring Hera and actually going through with taking a new wife held little charm - honestly, his whole essence sort of recoiled away from contemplating it. But what, then? She'd refused any gifts he'd tried to give her, she'd refused talking to him, she'd refused his presence, and yet she'd also refused the idea of divorce. Repeatedly.

Was not simply ignoring both his own reluctance and Hera's staunch, confusing refusal better and go through with it, so both of them could move on?

He still didn't want to do that.

Pausing in the wooded foothills of Mount Kithairon, Zeus tipped his head back to watch the sky, overcast and heavy with rain-threatening clouds. He did, truly, not want to do that. Hera's refusal, unless it was for some other reason, might have the same origin as his own hesitation over the idea of divorce. But if that was so, and yet she refused any other method of reconciliation… Zeus frowned, thinking that over again. He needed some way to push past Hera’s inertia, buried in her refusal as she was. 

Maybe the solution wasn't to actually do it so much as _appear_ to do so? It would serve the same purpose, and if Hera really wasn't interested in divorce because she did still wish to be married but needed more tempting incentive to approach reconciliation, wouldn't the appearance of him going through the steps to marry someone else give her such?

It had merit, as an idea.

Rubbing his chin, Zeus frowned up at the sky past the treetops and studied the wheeling swallows above, hunting insects while the rain still threatened but hadn't started to fall. He could not do this carelessly. While there was probably any number of goddesses who might be convinced to help him, if he went with someone it was too plausible that they _could_ , by stature and divine presence if not ability, replace Hera, it could potentially make Hera less willing to disrupt the proceedings instead of being incensed into acting.

He needed someone less prominent. Not a mortal, for that wouldn't work at all. No one, even less Hera herself, would believe that he would marry a mortal and set her as the queen of the gods and Olympos, and thus Hera would see through it too soon for the ruse it was. No, it'd have to be a nymph. A nymph would be perfect. Not stately or powerful enough Hera might simply accept it in her stubbornness, and not so insignificant among the Deathless Ones her name would be completely unbelievable, but also certainly nowhere near the majesty of Hera herself.

Perfect.

Smiling now, Zeus gave a last tug to his short beard and rubbed his hands. He didn't want to waste too much time on this, and searching high and low through the sphere for a suitable nymph would take too much time. He wasn't, however, sure who any of the local nymphs were - but there was a solution for that. Turning around, he scaled Mount Kithairon in a few steps, coming to the home of Kithairon himself.

It was a pretty mountain meadow, late summer flowers ringing the space and a cave set into the cliffside. From the outside the cave looked like nothing special, with moss-covered rocks scattered around the entrance and a slender beech growing bent over it, partially shielding the irregular crack and casting shadows on the flat ground just in front of it. Flute music could be heard, echoes from deeper inside the cave and out to wing itself up into the air. A handful of goats with a couple kids were grazing nearby, where the grass was thicker and sweeter than the bare patch in front of the cave. Zeus walked up in under the shadow cast by the beech's crown just as the clouds above started to break up and let the sun through again.

"Kithairon?"

The flute fell silent, and after a couple seconds a man, surprisingly short when it came to the Deathless Ones and someone who wasn't a nymph, came out. He started, staring up at Zeus for a moment before he shook his head, shook the rest of himself and bent in a quick, brief bow. "Father Zeus! A moment."

Kithairon and all of his long hair and beard disappeared back inside in a flutter of hair and fabric, and Zeus found a suitable rock next to the tree to sit down on, half folding his legs in at the ankles. When the mountain god came back out again, he was holding two cups, offering one to Zeus. Taking it, Zeus suppressed the urge to sigh, if only because this enforced moment of relaxation made it clear how tense he was. Tense and eager to move on, but such rudeness would ill befit him as a guest. So he sipped the nectar and tried to pretend it didn't unwind at least part of the weight that was knotting up his shoulders.

"Can I... help you, with something, my lord?" Kithairon finally ventured, clutching his kylix by both hands and watching the lord of Olympos from beyond the rim of the cup, if with some wary confusion to his tone, and all too obvious in his hazel eyes. 

The concern was understandable - it was hardly often Zeus went on random house visits to equally random mountain gods. What reason could Zeus have to come to him, then? Kithairon might sometimes entertain and enjoy the company of some awfully lovely mountain and forest nymphs from around the mountain range the mountain he was of belonged to, but none where at the moment present. Too, none of those lovely ladies were a wife or daughters which would mean Kithairon might be searched out to give his permission. There was, too, some very polite and obliging shepherds around the mountain most times of the year, but those the father of gods and men surely had no interest in at all, for so far the supreme god of the sphere had never cast his eyes to a youth, no matter how lovely. That it could be something serious Kithairon was to be asked for didn't even occur, for why would it? He was but a mountain god, and the king of the sky certainly had wiser counsel closer to hand than he.

"Asopos is the closest river, isn't it?" Zeus asked after a beat longer than perhaps necessary, but he was staring into the nectar contemplating how much he wanted to tell Kithairon, if anything at all, and finally just cut to the chase. That, of course, only left Kithairon just as, if not more, confused as before.

"... Yes, Father Zeus. I'm quite sure he'd be willing to entertain you if you needed him for something?" Arching an eyebrow as he took a bare sip of his nectar, Kithairon leaned back in his seat instead of forward, but the alert gleam in his eyes betrayed growing interest past his confusion. There would be no direct explanations here, though, no matter what Kithairon might wish for.

"Does he have any other daughters aside from Euboia?" Zeus, of course, couldn't - wouldn't - go down and ask this of the father himself in question. Though it was undoubtedly a rather reasonable way of getting permission when he wasn't even after rolling around on a sweet, blooming bed under some shade-casting trees with any of them, Zeus had no intention of asking permission for anything at all! Especially not something as potentially awkward as this. While it was fine that the news might spread when he needed it to, as to spark Hera's interest, he was of no mind to give the rumour mill too much time too grind. This was embarrassing enough as it was.

"He does," Kithairon said, the second eyebrow joining the first, but when his momentary pause brought to further elucidation and merely Zeus' stare on him narrowing when he didn't immediately explain, Kithairon cleared his throat and bobbed a nod. "Ah, of course. Aside from Euboia there's Tanagra, Thespia, Salamis and Plataia, with Thebe as the youngest of them."

Grunting, Zeus turned his attention to his kylix with a frown at the ground. Any of those would certainly be suitable. Perhaps Thebe--- No, he couldn't just go for the youngest, here. What would matter more was who might be the easiest and quickest to get his hands on. Zeus drained his nectar and stood up, carefully putting the cup down on his seat. "That will do. Does any of them range anywhere beyond their father's shores?"

He didn't have the time or desire to make a closer study of the nymphs' habits or fight with Asopos for temporary custody of one of his daughters. If this turned out to not work at all, he would also like to return to Olympos as quickly as possible to consider his next course of action.

"... Plataia does. She likes to observe any mortals nearby---"

"Thank you for the hospitality, Kithairon." Zeus dismissed the last of Kithairon's sentence with a wave of his hand and left, hoping to find the nymph handily away from the river's shores.

He did, though he had to wander some distance away from the mountain to find her, further downstream and then, indeed, away from the river itself. Plataia, where she sat in the shadow of a grove of trees, was very beautiful. Long, long, straight dark hair and enormous dark eyes that took on a sheen of green in the shadows, like a river shaded by trees. She was beautiful enough that if the circumstances were any different, he might have been tempted for further, actual, pursuit. As it was, any primal need or playful desire was entirely absent as Zeus strode out of the trees, making no effort to disguise himself or quiet his steps. Plataia looked up, shrieked, and flew to her feet.

"Father!" yelling, she took off, and Zeus had a moment of frustrated, stunned disbelief. Groaning, he dashed after her, and at least it wasn't difficult to cut her off from the river, but it was clear even a flicker of some sort of primal desire might have helped him in his pursuit. The sleek, quick-footed nymph was fast as well as nimble enough she was for the moment avoiding him, and Zeus was not so very patient. Especially more so when his intent was nothing but... well, if not honourable, then at least not intent on introducing the lovely Plataia to anything her father wouldn't want her introduced to without his permission and knowledge.

"My lord, Father Zeus, please stop! I'm too young to know the pleasures of the marriage bed!" Plataia wailed, tugging on her hair and practically disintegrating the flower crown she'd been wearing, sending a spray of petals in her path. Zeus rolled his eyes and suppressed a snort. Too young she was not, this lovely, dark-haired thing, slim and tall with smooth skin and quick feet.

"My father is nearb---"

"He won't notice a thing," Zeus snapped, then caught himself and took a breath, just for the simple gesture of it, the force of air in and out of his body. "And I won't be the one to introduce you to the delights of lovemaking."

"You--- am I not pretty enough?" Plataia reared to a stop and whirled around in a swirl of unbound hair and flounced skirts, high spots of colour on her cheeks. For all that she'd been earnestly running from him just a moment before, now she seemed terribly offended. And yet she still took nervous little half-steps backwards when Zeus came too close. Another step forward, and she stepped back, sideways. Rolling his eyes again Zeus stopped, crossing his arms over his chest. Whether or not she was actually interested in the possibility of sex, she was most definitely offended at the idea that he might not actually want her. "What else are you here for, if not that!"

She glowered, narrow-eyed and wild and Zeus smiled tightly. She really was lovely, which worked all the better for him.

"I need you to play along and come with me, so I can convince Hera to come home," he said, blunt where he'd been circumspect with Kithairon, though perhaps he should be more patient in his explanation. Those narrow eyes went wide and white at the edges like a spooked horse hearing real or imagined dangers in the night, and she turned pale, it seemed, from head down to her lovely bare feet. Zeus grunted and gestured sharply between them. "You will be given a town in thanks for your assistance."

Plataia did not turn any less pale, though her dark eyes lit up and she leaned forward just a little. It certainly was the right sort of gift to offer her in thanks - as well as the right sort of bait to convince her. The idea had been obvious as soon as Kithairon had said she liked to observe mortals. Still, after another moment Plataia shook her head, hugging herself now.

"The queen--- my lord, I've heard you've been separated, but she will... She will not be kind, if she finds me in your arms, whatever your intentions for me otherwise! I can't enjoy a generous gift as that if I suffer her displeasure!" Plataia cried, teeth catching her plush little bottom lip.

Zeus drew breath and took a step forward, tight and displeased. Then he paused, kept himself back. It wasn't like she was wrong, and he knew it would be cruel to potentially expose Plataia to Hera's wrath, but what else was he supposed to do about that? He did need the appearance of going through with this, nothing else would draw Hera out, but just a name to give shape to the ruse wouldn’t be enough. On the other hand it would be an ill-paid gift if Plataia got hurt during this silly and yet seemingly most expedient plan. Staring at his chosen nymph where she was shifting on her feet and watching him warily but clearly wanting of the gift he was offering, Zeus frowned. 

For this to work, while he did need Plataia herself, did he really need to have her in the wagon with him? 

He needed to remove her from her father, from her childhood shores. He needed the preparations and decorations of the wagon that would - supposedly - take them to Olympos to be obvious and talked about. He needed Plataia to be seen near it, dressed as a bride. But, he only needed for her to _appear_ to be in the actual wagon, like he needed to appear to be going through with the marriage. Perhaps Plataia would be more amenable to help with that knowledge, for her resistance, both before and now, was wearing thin on him. It was impressive, however. She was afraid of him, and also fearing completely denying him, and yet she was resisting.

"You'll be nowhere near my wife, daughter of Asopos," Zeus proclaimed, his voice rolling through the air, making the ground under them tremble, "I am only seeking to make the ruse more believable, and if you've been taken from your father before I am found with a bride in the wedding wagon, proclaiming her to be you, that will have a greater effect. If we make the preparations grand enough, no one will notice that it isn't actually you in the wagon."

They eyed each other, Plataia shifting on her feet once more and worrying her lip. She didn't run off, but she didn't come any closer, either. Rubbing her arms, she slowly dropped them to her sides and took a cautious step forward. "And I will be getting a city for my own?"

"You will. So I swear and promise you," Zeus said and dipped his head in a nod, the waves of his dark hair flowing around his shoulders and disguising the shudder of the air and the tremble in the land under their feet. It was as great of a promise as he could make aside from swearing by the Styx.

Plataia's eyes lit up, and if he had truly been looking to introduce her to the joy of lovemaking, she might have been pleased enough with such a gift that she would probably have gone along with it for it. Not many nymphs could call a town or city their own, compared to the wild things they were born into; it was a true honour to be given such a gift. Still, she pursed her lips.

"If I am to not be anywhere near the wedding wagon, what are you to have be me, Father Zeus? It wouldn't be very believable if there was only you seated in it."

What _was_ he to have as Plataia? It didn't actually need to look like her, as it would be veiled, but it did need to be the same dress - or an exact look-alike - as Plataia would be seen in before he set off with the wagon. Rubbing his chin and jaw, Zeus frowned. This was already ridiculous enough, and he would feel silly either way, but he could certainly not sit in the wagon alone as she’d pointed out, as that would break the ruse. Well...

"A wooden statue, veiled like a bride and dressed the same as you." Zeus nodded. To be sure, it would certainly be of better craftsmanship if he had Athena make it by hand, but there was no time for such fussy detail. He would make it himself, using power and memory. Looking over to Plataia, Zeus scowled at her. "I am planning on making it the likeliness of Hera," he added, for she was staring dubiously at him. Only the fact that he was quite pressed had him entertain her in this way, though perhaps it was worth it, for at those last words she giggled, clapped her hands and finally came close.

"That's a sweet trick. I'm sure we can get two suitable and similar dresses, Father Zeus, but I certainly have no veil that would be fit enough to wear for a marriage to the Father of Gods and Men," she said, and she was a bold thing, for there was a teasing note to her voice and the sparkle in her eyes, dark like a still, shaded pool along a secret spot in a river’s flow. Pleased things were finally - hopefully - going well, Zeus shook his head and smiled faintly.

"The veil I will provide myself. Come then."

In response, Plataia shrieked, high and loud enough to echo around them even as she fell forwards and towards him, arms flung out in a swoon. Startled for a brief moment, Zeus obligingly caught Plataia around the waist and hoisted her up against him as he turned on his heel. She hooked one arm around his neck and pressed the other against his chest, to all appearances trying to push herself away from him, arm stiff as he leaped up in the air.

"Father! Help!" she sobbed loudly, her voice even hitching and cracking in the middle. The smack she gave his chest he wouldn't have felt even if she had used all her strength, but as it was her wrist was soft and the hit glancing as she wriggled in his arms. Zeus pulled her closer, and Plataia leaned in close to his ear. "You will tell my father where I have gone, won't you?"

Presumption. He glared at her, and Plataia flinched, dropping her gaze from him. It wasn't just her shoulders that drooped, it was the whole of her, like a wilting flower. It didn't make Zeus feel particularly guilty in the least, but even so...

"We won't be going far," he said, stretching out his awareness of the land surrounding the Asopos and Mount Kithairon, searching... _there_. "You will be able to tell him yourself, after this is over."

It didn't take long to go where he wanted to, because while they ended up close to where he'd come from when he'd talked to Kithairon, they were, ultimately, not very far at all from the Asopos river still. The little town was charming, and Zeus put Plataia down next to the well, gesturing to it.

"It's fed by a spring. It, and the town, is now yours." He paused long enough to let Plataia look around, step forward and touch the well's rim, her dark eyes lighting up with pleasure. She would take good care of this place. Nodding, Zeus turned to the humans who were slowly clustering close by in the square the well stood in the middle of. "I need a wedding wagon prepared, as well as torches and flower garlands, and a dress fit for a bride for me."

Zeus reached out, pulling Plataia away from the well and drawing her in front of him, enormous hands swallowing her graceful, if slightly bony, shoulders. "I am marrying Plataia, daughter of Asopos, as soon as we reach Olympos!"

With such a suitably ostentatious proclamation, maybe it wasn't strange that they were quickly afforded a house where Plataia could get ready. She might have no need of it, but she entertained herself with the bath drawn while Zeus drew a glittering air of misdirection around himself and went out to the outskirts of the town. A copse of trees - none of them attached to a nymph, though this close to a settlement that would've been improbable anyway - gave him what he needed. A lightning strike felled one of the oldest trees, and he took a suitable chunk of it back with him, leaving the rest to be found by the inhabitants of the town and turn it into firewood or whatever else they might require. The bark of his chunk of tree trunk was shed on the way back with dismissive strokes of a hand, leaving him with a smooth, pale length that he put down in the middle of the floor of the main room. He was still contemplating it when Plataia came out, clean after her bath and the wedding dress she'd been given draped over her arms.

"How, ah... There's only one dress, and this one isn't in the least like mine," Plataia said, a little pout on her face as she looked down at the dress in her arms. It might not be the finest set of clothing a king could've offered, and certainly not the finest that could've been offered a bride of and from the Deathless Ones. Nonetheless the fabric of the inner dress and the layered skirts were fine, and there were rows of fine metal flowers sewn to the outermost wrap-around skirt and dangling from the hems of the elbow-short sleeves to the inner dress, and the colours were bright. In short, certainly a dress any girl who cared and liked such things would find it tempting to wear.

Zeus eyed it and gestured Plataia closer, touching a finger to the open, flat collar of her own dress, similar in style to the wedding outfit but certainly not as intricate. Made for more practical and day-to-day wear, though she undoubtedly had a couple similar choices to the outfit in her arms for feasting. At least the layered similarity, if not the number of layers and the lack of metal appliqués and decorations, made this a simple matter.

And so, under Zeus' touch, Plataia's dress changed to match the one still in her arms, down to the precise placement of the decorative metal flowers. For a brief moment Zeus allowed himself some smug pleasure at Plataia's wondering little noise and wide-eyed look down at herself as she spun around.

"The statue will be invisible until we're out of the town, and I will cover you until the night. Find somewhere to wait until then. After that you may do as you wish, staying here or going to inform your father at first opportunity of what you've been given."

She would, after all, be given it regardless of whether this worked or not. Hopefully it would, though, because there was something ridiculous in dressing a wooden sculpture up like they would be doing, as soon as there was a sculpture to dress. Eyeing the length of trunk, Zeus kept his face blank in front of the nymph but deeply wished to grimace. This was exceedingly ridiculous, but if it worked, he didn't care.

"Oh, of course! As you say, Father Zeus," Plataia said, though the look she gave him that he could see out the corner of his eye was slightly cautious. Despite the care he was taking with his expression he probably didn't look particularly pleased at the moment,. But then, it wasn't like he was actually feeling pleased, no matter the brief soothing effect Plataia's pleasure had had on his mood. 

Expression flat, Zeus turned back to the chunk of wood and put his hand on it next. 

It would be perfect in appearance when he was done. Its carved features would correspond flawlessly to memory, to life, and would be a gift worthy of gods if that would have been the intent of it. It still wouldn't be the same if Athena had made it by hand, for such skill was different to using divine power. Which he wasn't going to do, both for the extra time it'd take and because this was stupid enough, if not yet outright humiliating. Zeus drew himself up, and in, and then the power gathered made his fingertips vibrate against the wood. Under his hand, wooden chips and shavings fell like rain onto the floor, the chunk staying upright even when it should've fallen over for the fact that it was unevenly supported when it ended up looking like a woman sitting down.

In size, it would match Plataia perfectly with her sitting beside him, so as to safeguard the ruse. In its features and shape, however, which would be hidden under the clothes and veil, it looked nothing like the naiad nymph daughter of the river Asopos standing beside him.

The proud, sloping cheeks and subtly firm chin framed the sweetly bold thrust of a nose that was nothing but Hera's, and the hair half shielding the high, regal forehead was a cloud of curls, half pinned back around the head and spilling down the wooden back with a couple hair ornaments to hold the mass of it back. He’d left just enough room between the back of the statue and the back of the hair so that the clothing would sit naturally on the sculpture, ensuring it looking as lifelike as possible. Zeus stepped back and stared at the miniature wooden figure of his wife, and suppressed the urge to reach out to touch its cheek. It would only disappoint him if he did, no matter how smooth and soft the wood looked.

"Oh..." Reaching up, Plataia had no compunction of doing what Zeus had held himself back from doing and touched the wooden statue's smooth cheek with light, reverent fingertips. It was a touch worthy of an effigy of his wife, and yet Zeus was struck by the ridiculous urge to rip her hand away from it. It was just a statue, not Hera herself. Still, it was a very well-made statue, so lifelike it looked like it might take a breath any moment now and blink those blank eyes to let colour and reason flow into them. 

Memory hadn’t been the only thing going into the sculpture’s creation.

"Your wife is very beautiful," Plataia said, a wide-eyed little smile on her face as she looked at the statue, then dropped her hand. He kept the sculpture balanced so Plataia could dress it up in the wedding outfit. Zeus, still watching the statue, only nodded.

She truly was beautiful. The most beautiful of the goddesses born in the sphere. Hera was more, far more, than simply beautiful, however. 

Why else would he stay, why else would he come back? Why else would he not have forcibly gone through with divorce by now, when Hera seemed so ill-tempered by his presence he couldn't even say a full sentence within her hearing before she chased him off, not even when that sentence had been about divorce. Which should reasonably be what she should want if she could stand him so little any more. But no, apparently not, so he hoped, despite that is seemed kind of silly of a trick, that this would work. He really didn't wish to move on elsewhere, no matter how much his nature surged sometimes, or how taken he briefly was by someone else's beauty. 

Hera was an exquisite blend of perfect qualities, and there was no comparison.

"Are we ready?"

He didn't start at Plataia's question, only looked down at her with a measured look between the nearly accusingly perfect image of his wife and the nymph dressed for marriage, and nodded. 

Drawing the veil to himself from where he'd put it for safe storage, a gift that should reasonably have been for Hera's eyes and body only, Zeus was at least somewhat placated by Plataia's wide-eyed stare, the way she shied away from it before she caught herself and stood still. She knew it wasn't for her, knew she wasn't worthy of it, but she would be graced to wear it for a short little while.

"We are."

###### 

Nine years.

_Nine years_ , and though the insistence of Zeus not giving up was part of what she'd wanted out of this, he'd almost entirely ruined it all by bringing up the possibility divorce. 

The only reason Hera had not entirely lost whatever small amount of hope she might still have, was that Zeus had clearly not actually wanted to talk about divorce. He was offering it _for her_. Which was as baffling as it was insulting. Maybe a small shade of reassuring, as well, for some part of her had in all honesty imagined he would turn to that solution quickly after she didn't return. Had imaged that it might get brought up as an ultimatum and threat to convince her to come back to Olympos lest she lose her privilege and status as the queen of the gods, as if that was all that might matter to her. Perhaps she was feeling some faint trace of shame for thinking that, but if so it was so small it certainly wouldn't be something she would be bringing up and apologize for! She had, also, imagined that it might be presented as a situation already brought about, Zeus ridding himself of a troublesome wife who was no longer playing her part. 

Zeus hadn't. 

Her husband had instead stood there below the threshold and offered up the word 'divorce' as if the very depths of Tartaros itself was torturing him, as if it was a precious gift that would, finally, make her happy. 

He thought that?

Scoffing, Hera nearly yanked the brush through her hair, then calmed herself. The only positive thing to take from the offer of divorce was that it had come out of an attempt at pleasing her, if not bringing her back. Which Zeus could do, with or without her cooperation and consent, and they both knew that. She was, compared to some of her ruminations of the possible uses of divorce, as a threat only or real action, glad to say she'd never been afraid of that possibility. Zeus would never, whatever else his other faults.

She was also vaguely pleased to know (there were plenty of eyes and ears and willing mouths to spill the secrets of Olympos' halls if one were the right person) that, despite that he'd had the opportunity and now more so than ever, Zeus had apparently not actually gone anywhere else for these nine years. If only that was true when she was present! 

She deeply doubted it really was a matter of absence making the heart grow fonder, but if he truly valued her, truly did not find any fault or lack in her, how could he then keep straying when she was right next to him? She refused to believe this was something he could not take in hand and simply... not do, for all that he'd demonstratively cheated on every single wife he'd had so far.

Zeus loved her, yes. Of course. This was obviously clear by now, had she ever doubted it before. Respected her, certainly, no matter what it might seem like.

He simply didn't see, perhaps, why the function _wife_ should afford her some exclusivity aside from being the queen ruling beside him when he held her foremost in his heart regardless of whatever else he did. If that was it - and Hera, as much as she understood and knew the workings of her husband deeply enough to lie to him with not a shade of the truth being clear to him if she so wished it, wasn't sure it was. 

If that _was_ it, was that something that there could be done anything about?

With a sigh, Hera put the brush down and stared at the small table. It was pretty rough, even with its wood polished unto nearly shining. The mirror on it, clean silver and finely etched and carved, was her own. To say that this humble, if neatly appointed and well-kept home was a far cry from Olympos was like saying a mountain was far away from the surface of the sea. It was still a house and not a cave, and Hera appreciated Euboia's sense of neatness and care. Euboia clearly enjoyed her little sphere, though it was now far from her father's waters, and Hera would assist in any marriage the nymph might wish to go through with once this was all over herself, and preside over it as well. If Hephaistos had still been on Olympos, she would have him make a wedding gift for her. So as it was, there was nothing wrong with the house, even though simpler compared to the surroundings she was used to.

She missed her own bed, however. She missed her children - though after Zeus had found her she hadn't bothered to keep her location secret and both Hebe and Ares had been by several times, with others at least once. She missed her throne beside his, and a chill went down her spine to think of how much she'd missed these past nine years, the events she might have influenced. 

And she, unfortunately, did miss her husband, as little as she was still pleased with him. The whole nonsense with the topic of divorce and what Zeus had, and had not, done to get her to come home had driven that awareness unpleasantly deep into her heart and the forefront of her mind.

Well.

How much longer did she wait, then? It was doubtful she would get entirely what she wanted from this, and she would neither trust any promise from Zeus that he would not stray again, and she would hope that he wouldn't insult either himself or her by offering such a thing up, anyway. So---

"My lady!" Euboia burst into the back room Hera had been sleeping for the last couple years, breathlessly putting down the basket she'd been carrying on the end of the built-in bench. Clapping her hands together in front of her chest, she seemed utterly unable to speak for a moment, wide-eyed and nearly vibrating with energy. Hera wouldn't otherwise have had much patience for such manner of behaviour, and right now she had none at all.

"What _is_ it, Euboia?"

"It's--- I don't..." Euboia stuttered and trailed off, but as Hera's expression darkened, she started upright. "Your husband! He's _marrying_ , Queen Hera!"

Hera stared.

Blinked.

For all that Zeus had talked of divorce, she hadn't actually thought this was a possibility. Had she mistaken the hesitation, no, the outright displeased reluctance Zeus had brought divorce up with? Hera stared at the wall above Euboia's head, her insides unmoored and weightless. 

It was peaceful, almost. Then fury rose up, ate her.

"What does he think he's _doing_?" Flying to her feet, Hera slammed a hand into the poor little table, which shattered under the spike of power she'd sent through her fist more than the physical strength used. The mirror and brush fell to the floor with a clatter. The plastered floor cracked, a spider's web spreading out around her and warping the beautiful pattern of flowering pomegranate branches. _Had_ she mistaken it? Had Zeus for once been able to lie to her face and do so successfully, compared to the mess he'd made of it with Io?

"My lady---" Euboia crept up to her, shy and trembling like a hind cornered by a slavering wolf starving for a fresh kill, though in comparison to a hind she didn't cower away, but reached out. Her small hand was cool against Hera's flushed skin, fury lighting her up from inside out, and it shot a startling chilly spike through her, like stepping into a stream.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Euboia," Hera said, bent to pick up her mirror and tuck it away before she straightened again. Turned around to face the nymph hovering by her elbow, her hand soft, gentle, against Euboia's cheek. "If you ever need assistance, or wish to marry, you can come to me. Do you know _who_ he's marrying?"

"Ah..." Euboia quivered, hesitating even as she didn't step away, and offered Hera a wavering smile. "My sister Plataia, apparently. He... Father Zeus must have taken her while she was away from Father’s waters... She likes to observe mortals, and sometimes that takes her quite some distance away from our father's shores."

"It would be like my husband," Hera said grimly even as she lightly touched Euboia's cheek again, then the top of her head, and stormed out. 

Through the main room with the hearth, the only room to have a mosaic on the floor. It was a lovely piece of winding water around the hearth with fish peeking out of the waves, which Hera had appreciated from the moment she’d stepped inside. Now her concession was to make sure to avoid it so as to not accidentally destroy any part of it like she had the floor in the room that'd been hers for the past few years. She went out the door and through the winding streets of Calchis. At least Euboia lived near the edge of the town, so Hera didn't need to go far to reach the outskirts. If she’d had to stomp through the whole of the town she might have done something inadvisable, but she was too angry to draw a veil around herself so she could immediately fly off.

How dare he come up to her and talk about divorce as if it was unwanted, as if it was a favour - duly rejected - and then immediately seek someone out to marry? Moreover, to do so without informing her it was indeed something that was going to happen, or already had happened? He might be lord of high Olympos and the sky, king of gods and men, but if Zeus thought he could treat her this way, he would be sorely disappointed! His other wives might have had no reason to protest his separating from them, but all of them he had, at the very least, honestly told of such intention of; was she not due that, at the very least?

Not that she wanted to.

Lips pressed thin, Hera paused in a field just outside Calchis and drew herself up. She did not want divorce, whatever else her terrible husband's failings were, and he would find he would have to fight her to marry someone else. There might briefly have been an urge, like a lance of sunlight shearing through stormclouds before they swarmed heavy and close and covered the bright sun again, to return to Olympos, bedeck herself as lovely as only she could be, and then welcome Zeus and his new "bride" and offer to officiate the wedding. Let him squirm and see what he was rejecting!

But no, she was too angry for that and she could not wait that long. The satisfaction would be too brief and tasteless. Besides, a _nymph_? Lovely as Euboia was, and she was a most darling, upright girl, she was only a daughter of one of the lesser Rivers, and this Plataia, after her own description, was a sister of hers. This was what Zeus was marrying? Insulting both her _and_ himself.

Fury as much as power drew Hera aloft, and though she would have torn apart the delicate weave of an air of misdirection with the mood she was in, mist and clouds could serve her just as well. She rose high with them and left a meteor-like trail across the sky as she searched, eyes locked on the ground and her attention thrown out wide around her to catch---

There!

The queen of Olympos descended in an arc of fire, light about her head and sparking from her eyes. She landed weightlessly on the ground, not even enough to stir dust about her - and yet it trembled for her presence, a rumble sent through the earth. The two poor mules drawing the wagon shrunk back, hooves digging in and refusing to listen to Zeus shaking the reins or the whip snapping above them.

"Her---"

" _What_ do you think you're doing?" Hera stomped forward, around the mules and to the side of the wagon Zeus wasn't sitting on, glaring at the veiled figure, slight next to her husband. She was a bold thing, not flinching at all. In fact, she was so very quiescent in both nature and presence Hera was starting to doubt Plataia was even a naiad nymph like her sister was. Had Zeus truly gone for a daughter of Asopos born a mortal human? It seemed incredible, and yet the proof was clear in front of her. What else could it be? "Do you have no shame - no awareness of how this insul---"

Hera ripped the veil off the woman sitting quietly beside Zeus. She didn't even have the presence of mind to flinch from such a gesture, though if she was scared stiff and unbreathing that was well enough. 

That wasn't what it was. 

Chest heaving in rage and the delicate fabric in her fist threatening to tear between her fingers and under her nails, Hera stared at the bride seated so sweetly there in the wagon. Blinking, she shook her head. Looked to Zeus and then back.

It was a piece of wood.

An exquisitely carved piece of wood to be sure. A stunningly detailed portrait and replication of the likeness of the current queen of Olympos, draped in cloth and formerly veiled like a bride, but a piece of wood nonetheless.

"You wouldn't acknowledge any of my other attempts for reconciliation," Zeus said with a shrug, draping an arm around the wooden statue of Hera, but for all that he was nonchalant, his gray eyes were solemn. "And you wouldn't even say yes or no when I tried to bring up the option of divorce."

"Because that wasn't... what I---" sputtering, Hera huffed, and then, still staring between Zeus' wooden 'bride' and her husband, she helplessly burst out laughing. Of course he wouldn't insult himself so, taking a nymph or a human woman as a wife. Not even with how often he strayed. Of course he hadn't brought divorce up, at all or in the manner he had, only to then go through with a marriage he didn't actually want. Of course she knew Zeus better than that. "You are _awful_."

Zeus smirked at her, eyes like mist and sparkling like the night sky. 

"I think she's very beautiful," he said diffidently, "but she can of course not measure up to the real thing."

"I should think not, so remove that thing from my seat!" 

Dashing away a couple stray tears from her laughter, Hera looked down at the veil in her hand. It was, honestly, exquisite. Pomegranate flowers and halves of its fruits were embroidered in deep purple all around the hem, the seeds made of tiny rubies. There were silver vines with gold-thread myrtle flowers wound all over the veil, with crystals and cut diamonds making out the constellations of the sky in-between. Looking up from the veil to where Zeus had moved the statue to the back of the wagon, but not tossed it away - and he better not, when it was such a loving and lovely replication of Hera's likeliness, Hera sighed. Smiled, too, a small exasperated but soft thing, and held the veil out. 

"Put this back on me."

Matching her smile, but with an edge that was almost vulnerable, Zeus took the veil and draped it over her, covering her from head to waist. Then he offered his hand and helped his wife into the wagon to drive them back to Olympos.


	2. Bonus Epilouge: Plataia, After

"Father!"

Morning mist and dew still clung to the ground as Plataia ran across the ground, calling for her father, and she didn't stop as she reached the river's shore. Rather, she leaped off the sand and over the water, and was caught in the middle of her arch and swung around in an embrace.

"Plataia! What are you--- Daughter. Have you been allowed to say goodbye?" Asopos put his daughter down, the water under her feet like hard ground for her. Asopos then clutched her by the cheeks, then cradled her head, looking Plataia over with a hawk's eye for detail. He hadn't expected to see her again. He had, admittedly, also expected her to be dressed more finely, if he did. Plataia laughed, but she was clinging to his elbows, not letting go.

"I'm not any more married this morning than I was yesterday, Father!" she said and looked up to meet her father's concerned and now growing confused, green-gray stare, and she smiled, nearly wickedly. "It was a trick. A very nicely executed trick, I think! I helped the Father of Gods and Men with his reconciliation with venerable Hera, and I have been given the honours of a town for my troubles!"

She giggled, bright as a spring morning, and Asopos stared down at his daughter and then clutched her close again. For a moment Plataia went quiet, then she embraced him as well, face hidden against his chest.

"My daughter---" his voice cracked a little, and Plataia smiled, vaguely sheepishly, as she patted his back.

"Very sorry for playing up the abduction, Father, but we wanted it to seem real."

Well. The king had wanted it to seem as real as possible, and Plataia had cheerfully gone along with it. Perhaps she'd enjoyed playing into the drama of it a little too much.

"I am relieved to see you here, and well." A pause, as Asopos sighed. "Not that I would necessarily expect misfortune and pain from such proceedings, or from Father Zeus, but..."

There could still have been, and as far as Plataia was concerned, she hadn't yet expressed any thought about marriage with anyone at all, even less the lord of Olympos and ruler of one third of the sphere. Nodding, Plataia sighed as she pulled back from the hug a little, tipping her head back and studying the shifting morning sky.

"... I do think I might actually have wanted a kiss, at lea---"

" _Plataia_!"

Laughing, Plataia grabbed her father's hand and pulled him out of his waters.

"Come see my new town, Father!"

With a sigh, Asopos followed his daughter away from his river, and considered that this was probably the best conclusion he could have hoped for. Not known to hope for, certainly, for something like this happening. Euboia was happy, at least, if now distant to him, and it seemed improbable this would be a situation he would be faced with a third, or even more times than that. 

With a wry smile Asopos put both his worry for Plataia - unneeded now as it was - as well as any other concerns out of his mind. Focused instead on following his well-honoured daughter to the gift she'd been given for her assistance to Zeus.

**Author's Note:**

> Myth check:   
> _Pausanias, Description of Greece 9.3.1._ : "Hera, they say, was for some reason or other angry with Zeus, and had retreated to Euboia. Zeus, failing to make her change her mind, visited Kithaeron, at that time despot in Plataia [or the mountain-god], who surpassed all men for his cleverness. So he ordered Zeus to make an image of wood, and to carry it, wrapped up, in a bullock wagon, and to say that he was celebrating his marriage with Plataia, the daughter of Asopos. So Zeus followed the advice of Kithairon. Hera heard the news at once, and at once appeared on the scene. But when she came near the wagon and tore away the dress from the image, she was pleased at the deceit, on finding it a wooden image and not a bride, and was reconciled to Zeus. To commemorate this reconciliation they celebrate a festival called Daidala."


End file.
